Classical Indian Buddhist texts rely a great deal on two concepts: puṇya (Pali puñña) and pāpa. The former is good, something to pursue; the latter is bad, something to avoid. They have something to do with our actions and their results: punya comes out of our good actions and brings good results for us, pāpa comes out of our bad actions and brings bad results. We find these concepts all over the place in pretty much any Indian Buddhist text we might pick up. Next week I’ll explore in more detail what they are and how we might best think about them. This week I want to start with something more basic: how should we translate them into English? Absolutely not, I would argue, with the two words that Buddhism scholars most commonly use for them: namely “merit” and “sin” respectively.

The use of “merit” to translate puṇya derives from the Catholic theological term, to which it bears some resemblance. But Peter Harvey and Barbra Clayton‘s books have both pointed out a key problem with the English word “merit” as a translation of puṇya: it implies has strong connotations of desert or entitlement. These connotations are not necessarily there in the Catholic term, but few English-speakers anymore – even Catholics – are likely to first think of Catholic theology when they hear the term “merit”. A far more common use is the likes of “This merits a reevaluation” – “merit” meaning “deserve”. But “deserving” has nothing to do with puṇya. It refers to the impersonal, causal, possibly cosmic power of action to produce happy or fortunate results, without any actor (such as a deity or an institution) rewarding the deserving.

The problems loom similarly large with “sin” is a translation of pāpa. For puṇya and pāpa are clearly opposites and juxtaposed as such. But even in Catholicism, “merit” and “sin” are not opposites. Indeed, “sin” really has no opposite. It’s not merely that it has no semantic opposite in English – as would be the case for a word like “well-being”, where it’s easy enough to invent an awkward opposite term like “ill-being” and have one’s readers know what it means. Rather, the very concept of sin does not lend itself to an opposite: it has to do with a basic, intrinsically bad, state and nature of human action and character. If pāpa were sin, its corresponding concept puṇya would need to be something with a similar scope and gravity that was also based in human action. But the theology of sin holds no such concept. To the extent that Christian theology allows for an opposite of sin, it would likely be “grace”: a concept which does not correspond with the agent’s actions and their results, and therefore has little to do with puṇya. For these reasons, sometimes “demerit” is chosen instead for pāpa. But not only is “demerit” awkward, as far as I know it does not occur in the Catholic theology that was the reason for choosing “merit” in the first place; and it falls into the same problems of desert that afflict “merit” as a translation in the first place.

Now, in the context of nineteenth-century English usage, “merit” and “demerit” might perhaps have been the closest English concepts available to render puṇya and pāpa, despite the aforementioned flaws. But that isn’t so anymore. The twentieth century has seen the Sanskrit word karma, especially in the phrases “good karma” and “bad karma,” enter the English language in widespread popular usage, first in works explaining South Asian traditions and then more widely in a New Age context. The popular English usage of “good and bad karma” refers to the good and bad fruits of one’s actions, which come back to affect one positively or negatively in the future. One can observe plenty of random examples of this usage. I was once discussing this usage in the Harvard graduate student café (which has no significant Buddhist theme). A colleague of mine – inclined to Christian theology – who didn’t think the usage was that common. I pointed him to the tip jar in that very café, which bore the large prominent label “Tipping brings good karma.”

This modern usage corresponds exactly to the meaning of the Buddhist terms puṇya and pāpa, even though those terms do not themselves involve the Sanskrit word karma (which simply means “action”). There is, at any rate, no disputing the close connection between Sanskrit karma, on the one hand, and puṇya and pāpa on the other; the latter are typically referred to in Sanskrit as karmaphala, the fruits of action. Therefore I think it is best to translate puṇya and pāpa as “good karma” and “bad karma” respectively; as adjectives, one can turn to the slightly more awkward “karmically good” and “karmically bad”.

Why does all this matter? It’s not just a translation issue, not just that I find the use of “merit”, “demerit”, “sin” to be annoying. It also has to do with some of the hidden methodological debates in Buddhist studies. Jonathan Z. Smith famously argued in Drudgery Divine that much of what passed as the neutral historical study of Christian origins was in fact animated primarily by Protestant-Catholic apologetics and polemic. One might perhaps expect such a result in a field so deeply important for Christian belief. What’s more surprising is that similar Christian debates have reproduced themselves in Buddhist studies. The debates chronicled by Smith may have helped make “Protestant” a dirty word in religious studies more generally – including Buddhist studies, where Gregory Schopen seeks to dismiss the textual study of Buddhism by referring to its “Protestant presuppositions”, and Yavanayāna Buddhism is often referred to with the epithet “Protestant Buddhism” (and the implicit claim that it is therefore not really Buddhism but Protestantism).

It seems to me that the negative use of “Protestant” in religious studies is often motivated by exactly the kind of apologetic agenda that Smith attacked: an assumption that “real religion” is somehow more Catholic. The translations of puṇya and pāpa show us a case where, by contrast, Catholicizing leads us astray. Henry Steel Olcott, often pointed to as a key figure in the foundation of “Protestant” Buddhism, was not a Protestant but a Theosophist – part of a movement that inspired the modern “New Age” movement, where the use of “good karma” and “bad karma” is now widespread. In the case of translating puṇya and pāpa, to put it bluntly, the Catholics got it wrong and the hippies got it right.

Share this post:

Related

Post navigation

27 thoughts on “Translating puṇya and pāpa”

“I think it is best to translate I think it is best to translate puṇya and pāpa as “good karma” and “bad karma” respectively; as “good karma” and “bad karma” respectively;”

I am inclined to agree, but then what do the terms “good karma” and “bad karma” mean? Unless we clarify these terms, the concepts of puṇya and pāpa will remain unclear.

I also think it is important to consider the standard contexts of the use of the terms “puṇya” and “pāpa” and the standard examples of actions deemed “puṇya” or “pāpa”.

Lest it be thought that puṇya and pāpa refer to actions with a purely moral significance or import, consider that dipping in the Ganges is also considered puṇya and a violation of ritual codes is also considered pāpa.

It is also important to explore the relation between the concepts of puṇya and pāpa on the one hand and dharma and adharma on the other hand.

Interesting. I haven’t really considered these terms carefully, but what you’re saying sounds right. I can’t resist relaying an amusing Sanskrit joke. I once brought Papa John’s pizza to a class with Richard Hayes. He told us maybe it wasn’t such good pizza, since “pāpajāna” could mean “the origin of pāpa.” I thought that was hilarious.

This seems to me to be a good analysis. I would go Thill one step further and say that the concepts not only don’t have a purely moral significance or import — they have no moral significance or import. But saying that depends on an understanding that morality depends on objective codes or concepts of god.

I like your choice of “good karma” and “bad karma” to translate “puṇya” and “pāpa” into English. I am not any sort of expert on South Asian religion or language, but as I was reading your first few paragraphs, I was already thinking of “karma” (as an English word) as the impersonal, natural reactions to one’s actions.

However, I do have more understanding of South Asian religion than the average American (which doesn’t really imply that I know much about it at all), and my sense is that in common usage, karma is equivalent to merit/demerit. One hears people talking about storing up good karma or building up an account of good karma to offset some of their bad karma. I may be wrong, but this sounds like putting Buddhism into a Procrustean bed that better fits Christianity.

Jim: “I would go Thill one step further and say that the concepts not only don’t have a purely moral significance or import — they have no moral significance or import.”

I fail to see how Punya and Papa have “no moral significance or import”.

Even a cursory list of examples of actions deemed “Punya” or “Papa” or considered to add to one’s stock of “Punya” or “Papa” shows that they include morally good actions (Punya-generating ones) and morally bad actions (Papa-generating ones).

Perhaps, then:

1. “Punya” refers to a property of some actions, e.g., feeding the hungry, the property of enhancing, immediately or gradually, the well-being (broadly construed) of the agent.

2. “Papa” refers to a property of some actions, e.g., blowing up a temple, the property of diminishing, immediately or gradually, the well-being (broadly construed) of the agent.

The concept of karma is the natural functioning of cause and effect. As such, it is free of moral significance.

The concept of “good” or “bad” karma arises when you add intention or motivation in the context of the Buddhist path. Good karma results from actions which further progress on the path. Bad karma results from actions which slow or impede progress on the path. As motivation changes at progressive changes of the path, the concept of what causes good and bad karma will change.

So, a practitioner with a motivation for liberation of self, may generate good karma by actions such as refraining from sexual activity. A practitioner of the mahayana may have a more nuanced relationship to sexual activity, depending on the effect of the action on others as well as on himself or herself.

Ultimately, the goal of the Buddhist path is freedom from the cycle of karma. The path destroys itself. Once the river is crossed, there is no need to carry the boat with you. Motivation at that point becomes an obstacle to relating directly with the world. And at that point, it would be hard to say that there is good karma or bad karma.

The issue is whether the concepts of “Papa” and “Punya” have moral content or significance. You have not met my argument that they do have moral content or significance because they include ALL morally good or bad actions. I have already agreed that they are not restricted, in the way they are used in the Hindu traditions, only to morally good or bad actions.

You are correct if your point is that “Karma” is not restricted to morally good or bad actions. For instance, I am creating “bad karma” for myself by falling into the habit of procrastination. And I am creating “good karma” for myself by cultivating diligence and punctuality.

However, it does not follow from this that the concept of “karma” has no moral significance. Actually, it is an extraordinary claim for a Buddhist to make! The Jataka tales offer a relentlessly moralistic reading of the workings of “karma”. In the Hindu and Jain traditions also, the concept of “karma” is invoked to justify moral injunctions.

Btw, I think that all this talk of “karma” is just an “exotic” way of talking about a form of consequentialism focusing on what contributes to or detracts, immediately or gradually, from the well-being of persons.

But I don’t see any evidence for the traditional and popular Hindu, Jain, or Buddhist metaphysical theory of karma, i.e., the theory that if you do a particular good, you will reap that selfsame good and that if you do a particular evil, you will reap that selfsame evil.

Lt. William Calley, among many others, is a walking refutation of the so-called “law of Karma” which Hindus, Jains, and Buddhists invoke tirelessly and tiresomely.

My point is that karma itself doesn’t create a reference point. There has to be a requirement of intent or motivation to be able to label an action as creating “good” or “bad” karma.

To take an extreme example, if one’s motivation is to achieve happiness in this life, then a diagnosis of cancer might be seen as a ripening of bad karma. If, on the other hand, a person is very self-centered and a cancer diagnosis leads that person to realize the ephemeral nature of life and to develop a broader motivation of compassion for others, then cancer might be viewed as a ripening of good karma.

Because morality has a connotation of fixed moral codes or a theistic notion of good and evil, I think you have to be careful in how you use it in connection with Buddhist doctrine. Hindu notions of karma may or may not be different. By the way, this is not to say that moral codes are not helpful to Buddhists — just that in Buddhism they can be useful and then outlive their usefulness and be replaced by more nuanced understandings.

Of course, there are motivations that are consistent with the nature of things (motivations of compassion for example). And there are motivations that are out of sync with the nature of things (selfish motivations). But I still think it is a misinterpretation to think of this as a an issue of morality.

Morality is defined as “a doctrine or system of moral conduct”. So, the notion of moral conduct tends toward abstract principles of proscription or prescription that regulate behavior.

An issue of morality arises when life, in its infinite variety, offers a choice between alternatives and the adherent to a moral code chooses based on the alternative that best fits the moral template for correct behavior. A moral code may have rules, such as “do not lie”, and may permit exceptions, such as: “except when a higher principle such as preservation of life” requires mendacity. Nevertheless, morality is rigid and by definition, not situational.

Morality, while perhaps useful at some stages of the path, ultimately must be abandoned if Buddhism is correct in its view that all sentient beings have intrinsic Buddha nature — or basic goodness that is non-dual. Buddhism has precepts such as “don’t kill, don’t take what is not offered, don’t lie, don’t engage in sexual misconduct, and don’t take intoxicants. But ultimately, if there is trust in clarity of understanding that comes from meditation, precepts give way to an undistracted relaxation into intrinsic nature.

So, the precepts of Tilopa are “No thought, no reflection, no analysis, no cultivation, no intention, let it settle itself.” From this point of view, application of a moral code prevents direct connection with the world and is an obstacle.

Jim: “if one’s motivation is to achieve happiness in this life, then a diagnosis of cancer might be seen as a ripening of bad karma. If, on the other hand, a person is very self-centered and a cancer diagnosis leads that person to realize the ephemeral nature of life and to develop a broader motivation of compassion for others, then cancer might be viewed as a ripening of good karma.”

What you are saying implies that “a cancer diagnosis” can be interpreted as the effect of good or bad karma depending on the EFFECT it has on the person and his or her understanding of reality and moral attitudes.

If the cancer diagnosis has the effect of promoting a correct understanding of reality and morally praiseworthy dispositions and attitudes such as compassion, then it can be interpreted as the result of “good karma”.

But if the cancer diagnosis has the effect of promoting a distorted understanding of reality and undermining morally praiseworthy dispositions and attitudes, then it can be interpreted as the result of “bad karma”.

Thus, you are taking a consequentialist approach to judging whether something is the result of “good karma” or “bad karma”.

I suppose that you would take the same consequentialist approach to determining whether an act is “good karma” or “bad karma”.

Note that your focus is on the consequences for, or effects on, a person’s understanding of reality and moral dispositions or attitudes.

But a cancer diagnosis has other consequences: that some of the person’s important projects will not be completed, that there is likely to be a great deal of suffering, that the quality of life of the person will diminish drastically, financial burdens, suffering undergone by loved ones, etc.

Why are these consequences not important in determining whether the cancer diagnosis is the product of “good karma” or “bad karma”?

In a previous comment, I pointed out that bathing in the Ganges is considered puṇya and that violation of ritualistic codes is considered pāpa and that, therefore, this suggests that puṇya and pāpa may not be exclusively moral concepts.

But it could be argued that, for the traditional Hindu, these are also actions with moral worth and that puṇya and pāpa are exclusively moral concepts or concepts which pertain exclusively to actions with moral worth or significance.

For the traditional Hindu, this act of bathing in the Ganges has moral worth because, if the bath is undertaken with a “proper” religious attitude, the waters of the Ganges have a cleansing effect on the “impurities” or propensities toward moral evil in one’s mind.

It could also be argued that, for the traditional Hindu, violating a code or rule for the performance of a ritual is fraught with moral significance because such violations increase or strengthen, directly or indirectly, the propensities in one’s mind toward moral evil. Laxity in ritualistic observances could lead to laxity in moral conduct.

Hence, for the traditional Hindu, puṇya and pāpa include only actions with moral worth.

Among the first to take up similar lines of thought was Frits Staal who suggested that ideas such as ‘religion’ and ‘revelation’ are not ‘applicable’ to Indian traditions. Enter Balagangadhara in 1993 with “The Heathen in his Blindness” who extends it so strongly as to claim that there is no religion in India at all — that it is Christian theology in camouflage to suppose so.

Nevertheless, I think that many Indian pagans today (‘born Hindus’) do rather translate *merit as Punya* rather than vice versa. This, in my opinion, has led to ideas (that are logically and/or textually outrageous) like ‘all religions are equal’, ‘Ishvara and Allah are one in essence’ etc.

Thanks, kamatakki, and welcome. My critique tends to go on somewhat different lines than Staal’s and Balagangadhara’s – I don’t think the idea of “religion” is particularly helpful outside India either, for reasons I’ve discussed here and here. It’s a line of critique that goes back to Wilfred Cantwell Smith (who was a major influence on Balagangadhara).

“Balagangadhara in 1993 with “The Heathen in his Blindness” who extends it so strongly as to claim that there is no religion in India at all”

To defend the claim that there are no philosophers in India, I must first clarify what I mean by the term “philosopher”. Otherwise, I don’t know what I mean by affirming or denying that there are philosophers in India.

“Religion” is a general term in just the way “philosophy” or “medicine” is.

They are all “family concepts”, i.e., the instances subsumed under them have similarities and differences in just the way the members of a family have similarities and differences.

The differences, however striking, among the members of a family, do not show that it is meaningless or inaccurate to consider all of them members of a family.

In just the same way, the differences among particular religions, philosophies, and medicines do not show that it is meaningless or inaccurate to consider them instances of religion, or philosophy, or medicine.

Every human being is biologically unique. But even this does not imply that the use of the general term “human being” or “human body” is meaningless or illegitimate.

One who denies that it is meaningful or accurate to use the term “religion” refer to Buddhism, Jainism, Saivism, Vaishnavism, and Judaism, etc., would have to show that the differences among these systems of beliefs and practices are so radical and their similarities so trivial that to group them under the rubric of “religion” would be analogous to grouping total strangers under the rubric of (biological) family.

I probably agree with you. But it might be useful to have a definition of religion — rather than group different paths together in a vague sense and leave the burden on scholars putting emphasis on differences to justify a different taxinomy.

How would you define religion?

It seems to me that the usefulness of the term (aside from legal concerns, tax benefits, etc. and surface level, knee jerk conceptualizing) is to emphasize commonalities among traditions. To say that Buddhism, for example, is not a religion is simply to focus more on differences. In either case, it seems to me that the term is useful in inter-faith dialogue and maybe in academia and has little meaning within a tradition.

Could the definition of religion be found in the method by which wisdom is passed to new generations? Is it fair to say that religion does not exist in the the mind or experience of any religion’s founder? Can religion be seen as nothing more than a vehicle for transmitting ineffable wisdom and experience through cultural institutions?

Of course, many or perhaps even all forms of knowledge are transmitted through culture. A 21st Century mason can build an arch only because predecessors in his trade passed on the technology in an unbroken lineage. Similarly, a scientist or a philosopher builds on the work of predecessors in the field. So, how does religion differ? Can it simply be (i) the degree of deference that practitioners of a religion accord to authority, and (ii) the existence of an institution to carry forward the tradition?

The trick is that, for any religion to remain vital, it must become new in each generation. The institution and rituals are like codes that need to be unlocked — as a recipe is a code for fresh bread. Deference to authority ensures that the recipe is followed correctly. In Buddhism, the Buddha famously said: “don’t take my word for it — look into the matter yourself.” Nevertheless, Buddhist lineages exhibit great respect and deference for authority — even if this authority is not embodied definitively in a text. So — this is why I would tend to agree that Buddhism is properly categorized as a religion.

I expect that any definition that accurately includes all generally recognized religions and excludes non-religious based cultural or spiritual forms of knowledge (art, philosophy, divination, astrology, etc.) will need to focus on process rather than substance or doctrine.

Or, perhaps, we should jettison the concept of religion and replace it with the concept of supernaturalism?

The conflict between “religion” and science is essentially a conflict between naturalistic and supernaturalistic accounts of the world and the human condition.

Hence, all religions can be viewed as instantiations or examples of supernaturalism (a supernaturalist worldview or account of the world and the human condition).

The focus, then, should be on clarifying the concept of supernaturalism and “supernaturalist worldview”.

Btw, even puṇya and pāpa seem like concepts which refer to the supernatural, particularly if we define them in terms of “good karma” and “bad karma” respectively (Note that even the Mimamsaka sense of “karma” is laden with supernatural connotations, notably references to the deities propitiated in rituals).

Welcome to Love of All Wisdom.

I invite you to leave comments on my blog, even - or especially - if I have no idea who you are. Philosophy is a conversation, and I invite you to join it with me; I welcome all comers (provided they follow a few basic rules). If you'd like to be notified when this site updates, you can get email notifications whenever I add something new via the link further down in this sidebar. You can also follow this blog on Facebook or Twitter, or follow me on Google+. Or if you use RSS, you can get updates through the RSS feed.